


It's Not a Midlife Crisis

by quagsirechannel



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Netflix and Chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quagsirechannel/pseuds/quagsirechannel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafael hasn't watched a certain popular TV program, so Nick offers to watch it with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not a Midlife Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from http://esparzugh.tumblr.com, who asked for Barmaro Netflix and Chill! If you like it and wanna drop me a request, feel free to leave it at http://pedoshaming.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I have never seen Making a Murderer, and I can't into Spanish.

Rafael doesn’t watch a lot of television. He doesn’t have the time, there are always too many cases, too many witnesses to prep, too many papers to sign. His work always seems to come home with him, and while he doesn’t mind, it doesn’t leave a lot of time for him to sit down and watch a show. The few times he does have his set turned on, he’s tuned into the news for the sake of having some background noise while he works.

Apparently to the members of the SVU, this is an even more heinous crime than whatever they’re investigating at the moment.

“What do you mean you haven’t watched _Making a Murderer_?” Rollins screeches at Rafael, after failing to get him to join in their conversation about the program.

“I don’t have the time, and I don’t have Netflix. How are you watching it, I thought cops were supposed to be even more overworked than A.D.A.s?”

“Uh, binge-watching?” she says as though it should be obvious. “I watched it all on my last day off. More importantly, how do _you_ not have Netflix? Everyone has Netflix.”

“Clearly not. Why would I pay $10 a month for something I’ll never use?” Rafael says, exasperated.

“You keep it around so when you meet a girl, you can invite her over for Netflix and Chill,” Fin answers with a shit eating grin. He doesn’t often talk to Rafael, but whenever he does, it winds up being something crude like that. Rafael shoots him a pointed glare.

“Seriously, Counselor, you should check it out. The way it’s paced, it really pulls you in right from the get-go.”

“Are you a film student now, Carisi?” Rafael quips, starting to get annoyed.

“Alright, everyone lay off him,” Amaro chimes in, holding a hand up to Carisi before he can egg Rafael on further. “I haven’t seen it either, but I _do_ have Netflix, and I’ve been meaning to check it out with all the hype it’s getting. What do you say, Barba, you wanna come over this weekend and start it with me?”

Rafael blinks at Amaro and stays silent as he tries to think of something witty and biting to say. He doesn’t come up with anything, though, due to the distraction of Amaro beaming up at him.

Rollins and Carisi share a glance, then she clears her throat.

“He’d love to. Then he can come back and talk about it with us,” she says, trying to conceal a smirk.

“Fine. I’ll watch it, if only so I can point out to you all everything the prosecutors did wrong.”

“Cool, then it’s a date,” Amaro chuckles.

Rafael spots another glance between Rollins and Carisi, and he decides to turn on his heels and exit before they can say anything.

“Call Carmen to set something up,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks out the door, assuring himself that the only reason his face is red is because they keep it so hot in the SVU bullpen.

***

When Saturday rolls around, Rafael finds himself standing in the living room of Amaro’s small apartment, while his host microwaves something--popcorn, from the sound of it.

“You like beer?” Amaro calls over the popping noises.

“Uh, sure.” Rafael prefers scotch, but he’s sure that Amaro doesn’t have any, so he’ll take any alcohol he can get. He’s pretty sure he’ll need it to get through this.

While he waits, Rafael glances around the room, analyzing it. There’s nothing much to look at, just some mismatched furniture, a nice TV, and some video game consoles. It reads ‘bachelor pad’ to a T, which is expected of any recent divorcé. There are pictures too, framed and sitting on the mantle, but Rafael doesn’t dare examine them, not wanting to risk spotting one of Amaro and his ex-wife.

“You look nice, by the way,” Amaro says, and Rafael isn’t sure whether to enjoy the compliment or feel like he’s being teased. He’s only wearing a polo and khakis, and his hair is done the same way as it always is, he doesn’t look particularly special. Still, it is dressier than Amaro’s t-shirt and sweatpants ensemble.

“I wear suits that cost more than what you pay for this place in rent every day to the office, and _now_ is when you think I look good?”

Amaro leans out of the kitchen and gives Rafael a smile that’s somewhere between genuine and teasing.

“I don’t get to see you dressed casual very often. I like the change.”

Rafael barely keeps himself from swooning.

The microwave beeps and Amaro removes the popcorn from inside, then comes into the living room, handing Rafael a beer.

“Thank you, detective.”

“We’re off the clock, call me Nick,” he says with a smile. “And while we’re on the topic, what do you want me to call you? _¿Rafael?_ ”

The way Amaro says his name, with that perfect accent only a fellow _Cubano_ could pull off, makes Rafael’s heart skip a beat.

“Or no, you’re the type to go by your last name all the time, aren’t you? To keep everything real professional?” Amaro-- _Nick_ \--smirks, and Rafael has to roll his eyes.

“I’d hate prove you right, so just use my first name.”

Nick’s smirk doesn’t fade as he motions for Rafael to sit on the couch, then flops down next to him, closer than Rafael expected.

“Alright, _Rafael_ , let’s get this show on the road.”

***

Surprisingly, the show isn’t as mind-numbing as Rafael expected it to be. He might even call it interesting, though he’s not paying much attention to the plot. Instead, his enjoyment comes from the fact that he’s ever-so-slightly buzzed after three beers, that he and Nick are so close they’re practically leaning on each other, and--possibly most of all--that he gets to yell at the screen whenever one of the lawyers does something stupid.

“Come on!” he whines after a sip of his fourth beer. “Why wouldn’t he object there?! _Dios mío_ , these guys make even Efron look competent!”

“How many times has Efron beat you in court now?” Nick asks, holding back a snicker.

“Shut up,” Rafael bites back. He takes another swig of his drink and reaches for the popcorn bowl, then recoils when he feels another hand brush against his. He whips his head to look at Nick, who’s looking back at him, expression unreadable, and he swallows.

“Sorry,” Nick says softly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

 _How cliché_ , Rafael scolds himself mentally, trying to will himself not to blush. He decides to change the subject and attempt to distract himself.

“So why do you have Netflix anyway? I don’t peg you as someone to watch TV much beyond sports.”

Nick shrugs. “I got the account for us to use as a family. I never canceled it after the divorce.”

Rafael can hear the sadness in his voice, and he’s not sure what to say at first. After a quiet moment, he lands on, “How are you holding up?” Then, before he thinks better of it, he continues with, “Do you miss her?”

He winces immediately after the words leave his mouth. He’s almost positive he doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

“Which her?” Nick asks, less offended than Rafael anticipated. “Zara? Of course I miss her, she’s my daughter. But we talk on the phone, and Face Time before she goes to bed every night, so it could be worse.

“And...your ex?” Rafael isn’t sure why he’s pursuing this line of questioning.

Nick is silent for a beat, then takes a breath, and says, “Not as much as I thought I would. I mean, I miss her as a person, and I miss the marriage itself, I guess. Y’know, being with someone, sharing a bed with them. I still get freaked out sometimes when I wake up alone, I’m not completely used to it yet. But _her?_ I don’t miss her like that…”

Rafael knows it’s wrong to feel relieved. He knows that taking joy in the fact that his friend’s marriage ended, that he and the former love of his life are no longer together, is sick. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling just a bit hopeful.

Almost as though he were trying to sabotage himself, he asks, “So you’re looking for a new girl, then?”

“Nah.”

If he weren’t such a glutton for punishment, Rafael would stop there, but of course he can’t make it that easy.

“...Something else?”

“Maybe.”

Rafaels heart stops.

Nick looks at him again, his face much clearer this time. His gaze is soft, flicking between Rafael’s eyes and lips, conveying what he wants in lieu of words.

Rafael isn’t sure who leans in first, but before he can think about it too hard, the distance between them is closed and his mouth is pressed against Nick’s, kissing him sweetly, chastely.

In spite of his distaste for clichés, he can’t help but think he feels fireworks.

“Tell me if this isn’t okay,” Nick whispers into the kiss, unwilling to pull himself away until Rafael tells him to.

“It’s more than okay,” Rafael assures him, and then Nick is kissing him harder, pushing him gently so that he lies down, his head against the armrest of the couch.

Rafael closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Nick’s shoulders, letting the weight of him press him down. He opens his mouth when he feels Nick’s tongue slide across his bottom lip, and the kiss starts to get frantic, sloppy. There’s a heat building between them, one that Rafael knows all too well leads to desperate straight men making decisions they’ll regret.

“Tell me this isn’t some kind of midlife crisis induced sexuality experiment,” he says with his eyes still closed as he breaks away from the kiss. Nick tries to follow him, then pulls back a bit, too, as he processes his answer.

“No? I mean, in a way, yes--,” Rafaels eyes fly open, on the verge of fury, “--only because I’ve never done this before! Y’know, with a _man_. But at the same time, it’s not, ‘cause--’cause I actually _like_ you…”

Rafael stares up at Nick, quiet.

“I mean it. I like you, _Rafi._ ”

The nickname makes Rafael melt a little.

“You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble by just saying ‘no’,” he huffs, too stubborn to let Nick off easy.

“I wanted to be honest with you. You deserve to know what you’re getting into, and if it’s not something you’re comfortable with then--”

“Has anyone ever told you how much more attractive you are when you’re not talking?”

Nick laughs.

“Fine. No, this is not a midlife crisis induced sexuality experiment.”

“Good,” Rafael says with a smirk, then pulls Nick down and kisses him again. It’s rough this time, Rafael nipping at Nick’s lips and tongue, and Nick bucks his hips and groans.

“Someone’s excited,” Rafael quips as Nick kisses down his neck. He can feel Nick’s erection pressed against his thigh, and he squirms, creating just enough friction to tease.

“Fuck, _Rafi,_ are you sure this isn’t too fast?”

“Oh I’m positive,” Rafael assures him with another roll of his hips. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I am if you are…”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Rafael says, and he slides his hands under Nick’s shirt, prompting him to pull it off over his head. Nick does the same to Rafael, and they let their hands roam over each other’s bodies as they kiss again. Rafael’s fingers slide over Nick’s abs, feeling each strong muscle, and Nick brushes his thumbs over Rafaels nipples and brings a flush to his chest. They roll their hips, pressing their dicks together, but there’s a frustrating amount of fabric between them that they both want gone.

“I’d rather not come in my pants,” Rafael says, and Nick nods and starts undoing his belt for him. While he does, Rafael slides his hand down the front of Nick’s sweatpants and palms his heavy cock.

“Ohh, you’re a big boy, aren’t you Nicky? _Eres enorme…_ ”

Nick gasps, then he yanks Rafaels pants and briefs down at the same time. Rafael moans as his cock springs free and kicks them off onto the floor. He pulls his hand out of Nick’s sweatpants and pushes them down over the swell of his ass, giving it a squeeze as he passes it.

“ _Sí, Rafi, siente bien…_ ” Nick sighs, and he wraps his hand around Rafaels cock and starts to stroke him. It’s fast and unskilled, understandable from a man who has only ever touched himself before. Rafael enjoys the feeling of Nick’s hand on him, but the pace is too much, his grip a little too loose.

“Here, let me…”

Rafael moves Nick’s hand away, then pulls his hips closer, lining their erections up and then squeezing them together. He thrusts slowly and Nick trembles.

“Like this, this feels good,” says Rafael. He starts to move his hand in time with his hips, but Nick bats it away and replaces it with his own, grinding against Rafael.

“Yes, yes, Nick, _dame más…_ ” he moans as he arches his back. Nick speeds up his thrusting and twists his wrist, his rough, calloused hands creating more delicious friction.

“Oh, _ohh_ ,” Rafael keens, voice starting to raise in pitch. “ _Siente tan bien_ , Nick, _¡voy a venir!_ ”

“ _Dame esa leche, Rafi,_ ” Nick purrs into Rafael’s ear, nipping at the lobe, and it pushes him over the edge. He comes with a broken, strained moan, hips bucking as his cock pulses and he shoots onto his tummy. Nick watches him, stroking him through his orgasm, then finishes himself off and spills onto Rafael, too.

Nick keeps his hand on them until they’re both twitching with oversensitivity, then he moves it away slowly. Rafael falls back against the couch, and he breathes heavily, staring up at Nick who’s looking back at him hesitantly. The fear starts to build--Rafael knows that look, the look of regret and possibly disgust, and he braces himself for what he’s afraid will happen next.

All Nick winds up saying is, “Wait here,” then he gets up and retreats to the bathroom, Rafael watching him in confusion. When he returns, he has a damp, warm towel with him, and he cleans the semen off of Rafael.

“Sorry,” Nick says, “didn’t want us both to get all sticky.” He then lays on top of Rafael, head resting on his chest and arms wrapped around him.

Rafael stays frozen for a moment. He hasn’t experienced this kind of intimacy in a long time, and never from someone who was previously exclusively straight. He’s not sure what to say, what to _do_ , and he stays still, thinking about if for what feels like a long time.

Finally, he decides he doesn’t need to say anything, and he puts his arms around Nick and turns his head to the television.

“...I think we missed, like, half this episode.”

Nick shrugs, then says, “That’s kinda what happens during Netflix and Chill.”

“Wait,” Rafael says, realization washing over him. “Is that what this is? Did you _plan_ this?!”

Nick lifts his head and smiles up at Rafael.

“No, I didn’t _plan_ for this to happen. I may have _hoped_ it would, though…”

Rafael stares back at Nick, then smiles despite himself.

“ _Pendejo,_ ” he says with a laugh. “You could have just asked me out.”

Nick shrugs again, and Rafael rolls his eyes, both of them still smiling.

“C’mon, _Rafi,_ let’s find where we left off in the show…”


End file.
